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THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 


I See  page  23 
THERE,    NOW.   1      DO      NOT     FEEL     SO      MUCH      AFRAID" 


THE   MOTHER 
AND   THE   FATHER 

DRAMATIC     PASSAGES 


BY 
W.     D.     HOWELLS 


ILLUSTRATED 


Of  THE 

MIVERSITY 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

1909 


I 


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Published  May,  1909. 


ILLUSTEATIONS 

'THERE,  NOW,  i  DO  NOT  FEEL  so  MUCH  AFRAID"  .     .     Frontispiece 

'l  SEEM  ALL  ROLLED  AND  LAPPED    IN   ENDLESS  PEACE"  .  Facing  p.       4 
'SHE    MUST    TAKE    HER    CHANCE,  AS    I    TOOK    MINE"    .       .          "  32 

'IT  WAS  LIKE    SOMETHING    HEARD    WITHIN    MY    BRAIN"  .          "  46 


205541 


I 
THE    MOTHER 


I 

THE    MOTHER 

In  the  upper  chamber  of  a  village  house  a  young  mother 
lying  in  bed  with  her  new-born  baby  on  her  arm.  A 
nurse  moving  silently  about  the  room,  and  putting 
the  last  touches  of  order  to  its  disorder,  opens  the  door 
so/%,  and  goes  out.  THE  MOTHER  looks  up  at 
THE  FATHER,  who  stands  looking  down  on  her. 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Is  the  nurse  gone  now?    And  are  we  alone 
At  last?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes,  dearest,  she  is  gone;  and  I 
Must  leave  you,  too.    You  must  be  quiet,  now." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"Yes,  now  I  will  be  quiet."  After  a  moment:  "Dear!" 

THE  FATHER,  turning  at  the  door: 

"Yes,  dear?" 


THE    MOTHER   AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"See  her,  how  cunningly  she  nestles  down, 
As  naturally  as  if  she  had  been  used 
To  doing  it  for  years.    How  old  she  looks!  How  wise!" 
THE  MOTHER  rubs  her  cheek  softly  against  the  baby's 

head,  and  then  draws  back  her  face  to  look  at  it. 

THE  FATHER  comes  and  stands  beside  the  bed} 

looking  down  on  the  child. 
"How  much  do  you  suppose  she  really  knows?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"If  she  has  newly  come  from  heaven,  our  home, 
As  Wordsworth  says,  then  she  knows  everything 
We  have  forgotten,  but  shall  know  again, 
When  we  go  back  to  heaven  with  her." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes." 

She  nibs  her  cheek  on  the  baby's  head  again. 
"Do  you  believe  it?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Why,  of  course  I  do. 
Why,  what  a—" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Nothing.    Only,  I  was  thinking 
That  earth  was  good  enough  for  me,  and  wishing 
That  we  might  all  go  on  forever  here." 


THE    MOTHER 

THE  FATHER,  laughing,  and  then  anxiously: 

"Well,  I  should  not  object.    But  now,  iny  dear, 

If  you  keep  on  this  talking,  I  am  afraid 

You  will  excite  yourself.    The  doctor  said — " 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Why,  I  was  never  calmer  in  my  life! 

I  seem  all  rolled  and  lapped  in  endless  peace. 

I  feel  as  if  there  never  could  be  pain, 

Or  trouble,  or  weakness,  in  the  world  again. 

I  am  as  strong!    But,  yes,  I  understand, 

And,  to  please  you,  I  will  be  quiet  now." 

She  sighs  restfully.    THE  FATHER  stoops  and  kisses 

her  and  then  the  child. 

"I  wish  that  you  could  somehow  make  one  kiss 
Do  for  us  both!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  try, 
Sometime,  but  now — " 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  now  I  must  be  quiet. 

Go!"    He  turns  toward  the  door.     "Dear!"     He  turns 
again. 

THE  FATHER: 
"Yes,  dearest!" 

5 


THE  MOTHEK  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"But  I  shall  not  sleep." 

THE  FATHER,  anxiously: 
"You  ought  to  sleep.    The  doctor  said—" 

THE  MOTHER,  impatiently: 

"The  doctor! 

Fd  like  to  know  what  does  the  doctor  know! 
Does  he  expect  I'll  let  him  take  from  me 
A  moment  of  this  bliss  and  give  it  up 
To  stupid  sleep?    Why,  I  want  every  instant, 
To  share  it  all  with  you,  and  keep  it  ours! 
If  I  found  I  was  drowsing,  I  should  scream 
And  wake  myself." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes,  dearest  love,  I  know! 
I  understand  just  how  you  feel.     I  feel 
Just  so  myself.    But  now,  to  keep  it  ours, 
You  must  do  nothing  that  will  make  you  sick — " 

.  THE  MOTHER: 

"And  die?    Oh  yes!    But  what  if  I  should  die? 
I  have  had  my  baby!    What  if  I  should  die?" 

THE  FATHER,  wringing  his  hands: 
"Dearest,  how  can  you?" 


THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Sometimes  I  thought  I  must. 
But  then  I  set  my  teeth,  and  would  not  die! 
Nothing  could  make  me  die  till  I  had  seen  her. 
But  now  that  I  have  seen  her,  I  could  die. 
How  do  I  know  but  life  might  take  from  love 
Something  that  death  would  leave  it!" 

THE  FATHER,  ruefully: 

"But  you  said, 

Only  a  moment  since,  that  you  were  wishing 
That  we  might  all  go  on  forever  here." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  there  is  that  view  of  it.    Do  not  be 
Afraid!    I  shall  not  die.    There,  go  away, 
And  I  will  try  to  sleep.     Or  no,  sit  down, 
Here  by  the  bed.     I  will  not  speak  a  word. 
But  it  will  be  more  quieting  with  you 
Beside  us,  than  if  you  were  there,  outside, 
Where  neither  one  of  us  could  see  you.     She 
Wants  you  as  much  as  I." 

THE  FATHER,  doubtfully,  drawing  up  a  chair  and  then 
sinking  into  it: 

"What  an  idea!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Can't  you  believe,  that  through  each  one  of  us 
She  sees  and  wishes  for  the  other  one? 
Of  course  she  does!" 

7 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 
"Perhaps." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"  There's  no  perhaps. 

She'll  live  her  life  outside  of  ours  too  soon; 
And  that  is  why  I  cannot  bear  to  lose 
An  instant  while  she  lives  it  still  in  ours. 
I  hate  the  thought  of  sleeping.    I  should  like 
To  keep  awake  till  she  can  talk  and  walk; 
Then  I  could  sleep  forever." 

She  suddenly  puts  out  the  hand  of  the  arm  under 
the  baby's  head  and  clutches  the  father's  hand. 

"Where  did  she 

Come  from?    I  do  not  mean  her  body  or  its  breath. 
That  came  from  us.    But  oh,  her  soul,  her  soul! 
Where  did  that  come  from?" 

THE  FATHER  is  silent,  and  she  pulls  convulsively 
at  his  hand. 

"Can't  you  answer  me?" 

THE  FATHER,  in  distress: 

"How  can  I  tell  you  such  a  thing  as  that? 
You  know  as  well  as  I.    Somewhere  in  space, 
Somewhere  in  God,  she  was  that  which  might  be, 
Amidst  the  unspeakable  infinitude 
Of  those  that  dwell  there  in  the  mystery, 
From  everlasting  unto  everlasting." 


THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER,  without  releasing  her  hold: 

"Well?" 

THE  FATHER,  with  a  groan: 

"And  then  our  love  had  somehow  power  upon  her, 
And  blindly  chose  her,  that  she  might  become 
A  living  soul,  and  know,  feel,  think  like  us. 
It  chose  her,  what  she  shall  be  to  the  end, 
Or  rather  she  was  somehow  chosen  for  it." 

THE  MOTHER,  still  clutching  his  hand: 

"Out  of  that  infinite  beatitude, 

Where  there  is  nothing  of  the  consciousness 

That  we  call  this  and  that,  here,  in  the  world? 

That  ignorantly  suffers  and  that  dies, 

After  the  life-long  fear  of  death,  and  goes 

Helplessly  into  that  unconsciousness 

Again?" 

THE  FATHER  : 

"She  is  under  the  same  law  as  we. 
But  what  the  law  is,  or  why  it  should  be, 
She  knows  no  less  or  more  than  we  ourselves. 
Why  do  you  make  me  say  such  things  to  you?" 

THE  MOTHER,  dreamily: 

"You  say  our  love  compelled  her  to  come  here. 
But,  where  our  baby  was,  she  was  so  safe! 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

And  if  there  was  no  care  for  her  in  space, 
Or  any  love,  as  here  sometimes  there  seems 
No  care  or  love  for  us,  where  we  are  left 
So  to  ourselves,  our  baby  never  knew  it." 

THE  FATHER,  in  anguish: 
"You  want  to  break  rny  heart." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"My  own  is  broken." 

THE  FATHER: 

"And  are  you  sorry  she  has  come  to  us? 
You  are  not  glad  to  have  our  baby  here? 
You  would  rather  it  had  been  some  other  life 
Summoned  to  fill  up  other  lives  than  ours? 
You  do  not  care,  then,  for  our  little  one?" 

THE  MOTHER,  solemnly: 

"So  much  that  you  cannot  imagine  it. 

I  was  her  life;  and  now  she  is  my  life, 

My  very  life,  so  that  if  hers  went  out 

Mine  would  go  out  with  it  in  the  same  breath! 

That's  how  I  care." 

THE  FATHER,  beseechingly: 

"Oh,  try  for  her  sake,  then, 
If  not  for  yours  or  mine,  to  keep  from  thinking 
These  dreadful  thoughts!" 

10 


THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"It  is  not  I  who  think. 
It  thinks  itself.    Perhaps  the  baby  thinks  it." 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you,  my  dear! 
You  are  right  to  think;    but  if  some  other  time— 

THE  MOTHER: 

"When  other  children  come?    No,  no!    Now!    now! 
Another  time  would  be  no  miracle, 
And  I  must  try  to  find  the  meaning  out, 
While  this  is  still  a  miracle  to  me, 
As  much  as  morning  or  the  springtime  is. 
You,  if  you  wish,  can  drug  your  thoughts,  and  sleep; 
But  my  thoughts  are  so  precious  that  if  I 
Should  lose  the  least  of  them—     What  time  is  it?" 
She  follovjs  him  keenly,  as  he  takes  out  his  watch. 

THE  FATHER,  with  a  sigh: 
"Daylight,  almost.    Hark!    You  can  hear  the  cocks." 

THE  MOTHER,  smiling: 
"How  sweet  it  is  to  hear  them  crowing  so! 
It  is  our  own  dear  earth  that  seems  to  speak 
In  the  familiar  sound.     If  it  were  summer, 
The  birds  would  be  beginning  to  sing,  now. 
I'm  glad  it  is  not  summer.     Is  it  snowing 
As  hard  as  ever?    Look!" 

11 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  FATHER,  going  to  the  window  and  peering  out: 

"No,  it  is  clear, 
And  the  full  moon  is  shining." 

THE  MOTHER,    lifting   her   head   a   little: 

"Let  me  see!" 

With  a  long  sigh,  as  he  draws  the  curtain. 
uYes,  it  is  the  moon.    The  same  old  moon 
We  used  to  walk  beneath  when  we  were  lovers. 
Do  you  suppose  that  it  was  really  we?" 

She  lets  her  head  drop. 

THE  FATHER: 
"If  this  is  we." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"It  seems  a  year,  almost, 
Since  yesterday — for  now  this  is  to-morrow. 
Does  the  time  seem  as  long  to  you,  I  wonder?" 

THE  FATHER,  coming  back  to  her: 
"Longer.    I  had  to  see  you  suffer  and  not  help  you." 

THE  MOTHER,  taking  his  hand  again: 
"I  did  not  mind  it;    I  was  glad  to  suffer. 
You  must  not  mind  it  either." 

After  a  moment: 
"If  she  could  live 

Forever  on  the  earth,  and  we  live  with  her, 
I  should  not  mind  our  having  brought  her  here. 

12 


THE    MOTHER 

The  life  of  earth,  it  seems  so  beautiful, 

Far  more  than  anything  imaginable 

Of  any  life  elsewhere.     They  cannot  hear 

Anything  like  the  crowing  of  the  cocks 

In  heaven — so  drowsy  and  so  drowsing!    Hark, 

How  thin  and  low  and  faint  it  is!    Oh,  sweet, 

Sweeter  than  voices  of  antiphonal  angels, 

Answering  one  another  in  the  skies, 

They  keep  on  calling  in  the  dim,  warm  barns, 

With  the  kind  cattle  underneath  their  roosts, 

Munching  the  hay,  and  sighing,  rich  and  soft. 

I  used  to  hear  it  when  I  was  a  child, 

And  the  milk  hoarsely  drumming  in  the  pails. 

I  hope  that  she  will  live  to  love  these  things, 

Dear  simple  things  of  our  dear  simple  earth. 

Do  not  you,  dearest?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes,  indeed  I  do. 
And  now  if  only  you  could  get  some  sleep — " 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Well,  I  will  try.    I  will  be  quiet  now. 
How  quietly  she  sleeps!    She  wants  to  set 
A  good  example  to  her  wicked  mother. 
Mother!    Just  think  of  it!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"And  father!    Think 
Of  that!" 

13 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  I  have  thought  of  that  too,  dear. 
Put  your  lips  down  and  kiss  her  little  head." 

As  THE  FATHER  bends  over  her: 

"  There,  now,  with  your  face  between  hers  and  mine, 
You  can  be  kissing  both." 

As  he  lifts  himself : 
"I  was  just  thinking, 

What  if,  instead  of  our  blind,  ignorant  love, 
Choosing  her  out  of  the  infinitude 
Of  those  unconsciousnesses,  as  we  call  them— 
She,  in  the  wisdom  she  had  right  from  God, 
Had  chosen  us,  in  spite  of  knowing  us 
Better  than  we  can  ever  know  ourselves, 
In  all  our  wickedness  and  foolishness, 
To  be  her  father  and  her  mother  here, 
Because  she  understood  the  good  that  she 
Could  do  us,  and  be  safe  from  harm  of  us: 
Would  you  like  that?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Far  better  than  to  think 
She  came  because  we  ignorantly  willed." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Well,  now,  perhaps,  that  is  the  way  it  was. 
Only—" 

THE  FATHER 

"What,  dearest?" 
14 


THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  I  do  not  know 

If  I  can  make  you  understand.     Men  cannot. 
But  if  she  came  from  Him,  and  if  He  knew 
That  was  her  errand,  why  did  He  make  no  sign, 
Or  send  some  of  His  angels  down  to  say?" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Perhaps  she  was  herself  His  angel." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Now, 

You  have  said  it!    I  hoped  you  would  say  that. 
It  always  seemed  so  commonplace,  before, 
But  now,  the  rarest,  the  most  precious  truth. 
It  was  not  only  wishing  first  to  see  her, 
And  willing  not  to  die  till  I  had  seen  her, 
That  helped  me  live  through  all  that  agony. 
But  in  the  very  midst  and  worst  of  it 
There  was  a  kind  of — I  can  never  express  it! — 
Waiting  and  expectation  of  a  message! 
What  will  the  message  be?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Something,  perhaps, 

That  never  can  be  put  in  words,  on  earth, 
But  that  we  still  shall  feel  the  meaning  of. 
And  at  the  last  shall  come  to  understand 
As  we  have  always  felt  it." 

15 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER,  after  a  moment: 

"There  was  something 

I  wish  that  I  could  tell  you — through  it  all, 
Confusion,  or  transfusion,  I  do  not  know, 
As  if  the  child  was  I,  and  I  was  it, 
And  I  myself  was  being  born —     You'll  think 
That  I  am  crazy!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"No,  indeed!    Go  on!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  there  is  nothing  more.     I  felt  as  if 
It  was  I  coming  into  another  world, 
Where  I  had  never  been  before.     And  this, 
This  is  the  other  world!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  do  not  understand." 

THE  MOTHER,  sadly: 

"I  was  afraid  of  that.     And  I  shall  hurt  you 
If  I  explain." 

THE  FATHER: 

"No,  no!    You  will  not  hurt  me, 
Or,  if  you  do,  it  will  be  for  my  good." 

THE  MOTHER,  after  a  moment: 
"Aji  hour  ago,  one  little  hour  ago, 
If  it  has  been  even  an  hour  ago, 

16 


THE    MOTHER 

You  were  the  whole  of  love,  and  now  you  are 

The  least  and  last  of  it,  and  lost  in  it. 

It  is  as  if  you  went  out  of  that  world, 

With  that  old  self  of  mine,  when  this  new  self 

Came  with  our  baby  here.     There,  now,  I  knew  it! 

I  knew  that  I  should  hurt  you,  darling!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"No. 

I  am  not  hurt,  and  I  can  understand. 
I  would  not  have  it  different.     I  should  hate 
Myself  if  I  could  make  you  care  for  me 
In  that  old  way.     It  did  seem  beautiful, 
And  pure,  and  holy,  and  it  seemed  unselfish. 
But  this— this!" 

He  bends  over  the  mother  and  child,  and  gathers 
them  both  into  his  arms. 

THE  MOTHER,  putting  her  hand  on  his  head,  and  gently 
smoothing  it:  • 

"  There,  you'll  wake  the  baby,  dearest. 
How  strange  is  seems,  my  saying  that  already! 
But  now  I  am  so  sleepy,  and  the  doctor 
Said  that  I  ought  to  sleep.     You  will  not  mind 
If  baby  and  I  drive  you  out  of  the  room? 
I  must  be  quiet  now.     You  are  not  wounded?" 

She  stretches  her  hand  toward  him  as  he  rises  and 
turns  toward  the  door. 
17 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  FATHER,  catching  her  hand  to  his  mouth: 

"No,  no.    I  am  glad  you  are  sleepy.    Sleep  is  the  best 

thing. 
The  doctor  said  so — " 

THE  MOTHER,  drowsily: 

"Then  I  will  go  to  sleep. 
Father,  good-night!" 

THE  FATHER,  joyously: 

"No,  no;  good-morning,  mother!" 


II 

THE  FATHER  AND  THE   MOTHER 


II 

THE  FATHER  AND  THE  MOTHER 

The  best  room  of  a  village  house,  after  the  bride  and  groom 
have  gone,  and  the  wedding  guests  have  left  the  father 
and  the  mother  of  the  bride  alone.  They  are  a  pair 
in  later  middle  life,  with  hair  beginning  to  be  gray. 
THE  FATHER  stands  at  the  window  staring  out.  THE 
MOTHER  goes  restively  about  noting  this  thing  and 
that. 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  thought  we  never  should  be  rid  of  them! 
The  laughing,  and  the  screaming,  and  the  chatter, 
I  thought,  would  drive  me  wild.    Now  they  are  gone, 
And  I  can  breathe  a  little  while  before 
I  begin  putting  things  in  place  again. 
But  what  confusion!    I  should  think  a  whirlwind 
Had  swept  the  whole  house  through,  up  stairs  and  down. 
It  seemed  as  if  those  people  had  no  mercy. 
And  she,  before  that  wall  of  roses  there, 
Standing  through  all  so  patient  and  so  gentle, 
And  smiling  so  on  every  one  that  came 

21 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

To  shake  hands  with  her,  or  to  kiss  her — white 
As  the  white  dress  she  wore!    Ah,  no  one  knew, 
As  I  knew,  what  it  cost  her  to  keep  up. 

I  knew  her  heart  was  aching  for  the  home 
That  she  was  leaving,  so  that  when  it  came 
To  the  good-bye,  I  almost  felt  it  break 
Against  my  own.     Dearest,  you  do  believe 
He  will  be  good  to  her?    You  do  believe— 
What  are  you  looking  at  out  of  the  window?" 

THE  FATHER,  witliout  turning: 

"At  the  old  slippers  they  threw  after  her. 
The  rice  lies  in  the  road  as  thick  as  snow." 

THE  MOTHER: 

II  Those  silly  customs,  how  I  hate  them  all! 
But  if  they  help  to  keep  our  thoughts  away — 
You  do  see  something  else!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"No,  nothing  else. 

I  was  just  wondering  if  I  might  not  hear 
The  whistle  of  their  train." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"And  you  have  heard  it?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Not  yet." 

22 


THE    PAT  HER    AND    THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER 

"Then  come  and  sit  down  here  by  me, 
And  tell  me  how  it  was  when  we  were  married." 

He  comes  slowly  from  the  window  and  stands  be 
fore  her. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  looked  as  pale  as  she  did? 
I  know  I  did  not!    I  was  sure  of  you 
For  life  and  death.     Why  do  you  not  sit  down?" 

He  sinks  absently  beside  her  on  the  sofa.    She  pulls 

his  arm  round  her  waist. 
"There,  now,  I  do  not  feel  so  much  afraid!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Afraid  of  what?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"How  can  I  tell  you  what? 
Afraid  for  her  of  all  that  I  was  then 
So  radiantly  glad  of  for  myself. 
Do  you  believe  we  really  were  so  happy? 
I  was  one  craze  of  hope  and  trust  in  you, 
But  was  that  happiness?     Do  you  believe 
He  will  be  good  to  her  as  you  have  been 

To  me?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Oh  yes." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Why  do  you  answer  so, 

Sighing  like  that?" 

23 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 

"Because  men  are  not  good, 
As  women  are." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  I  kept  thinking  that 
Through  the  whole  service,  when  the  promises 
He  made  seemed  broken  in  the  very  making. 
How  little  we  know  about  him!    A  few  months 
Since  she  first  saw  him,  and  we  give  her  to  him 
As  trustfully  as  if  we  had  known  him  always." 

THE  FATHER: 

"And  we  ourselves,  we  had  not  known  each  other 
Longer  than  they  when  we  were  married." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh, 
But  that  was  different!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"No,  it  was  the  same 
And  it  was  like  most  of  the  marriages 
That  have  been  and  that  shall  be  to  the  end. 
They  liked  the  charm  of  strangeness  in  each  other." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"But  men  and  women  are  quite  strange  enough, 
Merely  as  men  and  women,  to  each  other, 

24 


THE    FATHEK    AND    THE    MOTIIEK 

When  they  have  lived  their  whole  lives  long  together. 

And  we  ourselves,  we  took  too  many  chances. 

I  did  not  think  you  ever  would  be  harsh, 

And  when  you  spoke  the  first  harsh  word  to  me — 

I  believe,  if  he  is  ever  unkind  to  her, 

That  I  shall  know  it,  wherever  it  may  be. 

She  will  come  to  me  somehow  in  her  grief, 

And  let  me  comfort  her  poor  ghost  with  mine, 

For  it  would  kill  us  both.     Do  you  suppose — 

Do  you  believe  he  ever  will  be  harsh 

With  her?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"1  almost  think  you  ask  me  that 
Just  to  torment  me." 

THE  MOTHER: 

" There,  that  is  so  like  you! 
You  cannot  talk  of  her  as  if  she  were 
A  woman  after  all.     But,  I  can  tell  you, 
She  in  her  turn  can  bear  all  I  have  borne; 
And  though  she  seems  so  frail  and  sensitive, 
She  is  not  one  to  break  at  a  mere  touch. 
But  men  are  that  way,  I  have  noticed  it; 
They  think  their  wives  can  endure  everything, 
Their  daughters  nothing.     You  are  not  listening!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Yes,  I  am  listening.    What  is  it  you  mean?" 

25 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"You  are  tenderer  of  your  children  than  your  wives 
Because  you  love  what  is  yourselves  in  them, 
And  you  must  love  somebody  else  in  us. 
Cannot  you  give  me  a  moment's  sympathy 
Now  when  I  have  nobody  left  but  you? 
What  are  your  thinking  of,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

THE  FATHER,  going  back  to  the  window,  and  kneeling  on 
the  window-seat,  with  his  forehead  against  the  pane: 

"The  night  when  she  was  born." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  knew  it!    I 

Was  thinking  of  it  too,  and  how  it  seemed 
As  if  she  had  somehow  chosen  us  to  be 
Her  father  and  her  mother." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Why  not  him, 

Then,  for  her  husband,  by  a  mystery 
As  sacred?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  why  do  you  ask?    Because 
There  is  no  other  world,  now,  as  there  was 
Then,  where  the  mystery  could  shape  itself — 

26 


THE  FATHER  AND  THE  MOTHER 

No  hitherto,  as  there  is  no  hereafter. 
We  have  destroyed  it  for  ourselves  and  her, 
And  love  for  all  of  us  is  as  much  a  thing 
Of  earth  as  death  itself." 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  never  said 
That  world  did  not  exist." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh  no;  you  only 

Said  that  you  did  not  know,  and  I  have  only 
Bettered  your  ignorance  a  little  and  said 
I  knew.    Women  must  have  some  faith  or  other 
Even  if  they  make  a  faith  of  disbelief; 
They  cannot  halt  half-way  in  yes  and  no; 
And  she  is  more  like  me  than  you  in  that, 
Though  she  is  like  you  in  so  many  things. 
That  shattered  fantasy — or,  what  you  please — 
Cannot  be  mended  now  and  used  again; 
And  howsoever  she  has  chosen  him — 
Or,  if  you  like,  he  has  been  chosen  for  her— 
The  choice  is  made  between  his  love  and  ours. 
The  home  she  seemed  to  bring,  then,  when  she  came, 
Now  she  is  gone,  it  lies  here  in  the  dust. 
Oh,  I  can  pick  the  house  up,  after  while, 
But  never  pick  the  home  up,  while  I  live! 
Well,  let  it  be!    I  suppose  you  will  call  it 
Nature,  and  preach  that  cold  philosophy 

27 


THE  MOTHEK  AND  THE  FATHER 

Of  yours:   that  every  home  is  founded  on 

The  ruin  of  some  other  home  and  shall  be 

The  ruin  out  of  which  still  other  homes 

Shall  grow  in  turn,  and  so  on  to  the  end. 

I  find  no  comfort  in  it,  and  my  heart 

Aches  for  the  child  that  is  not  less  my  child 

Because  she  is  her  husband's  wife.     Oh  yes, 

If  we  were  two  fond  optimistic  fools, 

I  dare  say  we  should  sit  here  in  this  horror, 

And  hold  each  other's  hands  and  smile  to  think 

Of  what  a  brilliant  wedding  it  had  been; 

How  everybody  said  how  well  she  looked, 

And  how  he  was  so  handsome  and  so  manly; 

And  try  to  follow  them  in  imagination 

To  their  new  house,  and  settle  them  in  it; 

And  say  how  soon  we  should  be  hearing  from  her, 

And  then  how  soon  they  would  come  back  to  us 

Next  summer.     But  we  have  not  been  that  kind. 

We  have  always  said  the  things  we  really  thought, 

And  not  shrunk  from  the  facts;   and  now  I  face  them, 

And  say  this  wedding —    Hark !    Was  that  their  train  ?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"It  is  the  freight  mounting  the  grade.    Their  train 
Is  overdue,  but  it  will  soon  be  there." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"If  it  would  never  come  or  never  go! 

If  all  the  worlds  that  whir  around  the  sun 

28 


THE  FATHER  AND  THE  MOTHER 

Could  stop,  and  none  of  them  go  on  again! 
Once  I  had  courage  for  us  both,  and  now 
You  ought  to  have  it.     Oh,  say  something,  do, 
To  help  me  bear  it!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"What  is  it  I  should  say?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"That  it  has  been  all  my  own  doing!    Say 
That  I  would  have  it,  and  am  like  the  mothers, 
The  stupid  mothers,  still  uncivilized, 
That  wish  their  daughters  married  for  the  sake 
Of  being  married:    that  would  help  me  bear  it. 
If  you  blamed  me  then  I  could  blame  you  too, 
And  say  you  wished  it  quite  as  much  as  I." 

THE  FATHER: 

"We  neither  of  us  wished  it,  and  I  think 
We  have  always  blamed  each  other  needlessly." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  and  I  cannot  bear  it  as  I  used 
When  she  was  with  us.     Now  that  she  is  gone 
And  you  are  all  in  all  to  me  again, 
Dearest,  you  must  be  very  good  to  me. 
Did  you  hear  something?" 

THE  FATHER,    going   to   the  ivindow: 

"Yes,  I  thought  I  heard 

The  coming  of  their  train:    but  it  was  nothing." 

29 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER,  unheedingly: 

"The  worst  of  all  was  having  to  part  so — 

Hurried  and  fluttered — up  there  in  her  room, 

Where  she  had  been  so  long  our  little  child, 

And  with  that  hubbub  going  on  down  here, 

Not  realize  that  we  were  parting.     Oh, 

If  we  could  only  have  had  a  little  time 

And  quiet  for  it!    Hark!    What  noise  was  that?" 

THE  FATHER: 
"What  noise?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

" Something  that  sounded  like  a  voice! 
Her  voice!    I  know  it  must  have  been  her  voice!" 

She  rusJies  to  the  ivindow  and  stares  out. 
"I  always  knew  within  my  heart  that  she 
Would  call  for  me,  if  any  unhappiness 
Greater  than  she  could  bear  should  come  to  her." 

THE  FATHER: 
uBut  what  unhappiness— 

THE  MOTHER: 

"A  tone,  a  look!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"With  our  arms  round  her  yet?    He  could  not.    That 
Would  be  against  nature." 

30 


THE    FATHER    AND    THE    MOTHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

" Nature!    How  you  men 
Are  always  talking  about,  Nature!    Little 
You  understand  her!    Nature  flatters  men. 
She  gives  men  mastery  and  health  and  life, 
And  women  subjection,  weakness,  pain,  and  death. 
We  know  what  Nature  is,  and  you  know  nothing. 
She  takes  our  youth  and  wastes  it  upon  you, 
She  steals  our  beauty  for  you,  and  she  uses 
Our  love  itself  to  enslave  us  to  you.    Nature!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Has  it  been  really  so  with  you  and  me?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"How  do  I  know?    You  may  have  been  unlike 
Other  men." 

THE  FATHER: 

"No,  but  quite  like  other  men; 
Not  better.     Shall  she  take  her  chance  with  him? 
Speak  out  now  from  the  worst  you  know  of  me, 
And  say  if  you  would  have  her  back  again." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"It  keeps  on  calling!    Can  it  be  her  voice?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Then  say  it  is  her  voice.    What  will  you  answer? 
Shall  she  come  home  and  be  our  child  again?" 

31 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 
"You  put  it  all  on  me!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Then  if  I  take 
The  burden  all  upon  myself,  and  choose — " 

THE  MOTHER: 
"What?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"That  her  longing  for  us  should  have  power 
To  bring  her  back?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"To  say  good-bye  again?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"To  stay  and  never  say  good-bye  again, 
To  leave  her  husband  and  to  cleave  to  us." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  cannot  let  you  choose!    For  oh!   it  seems 
That  it  would  really  happen  if  you  chose. 
Wait,  wait  a  minute,  wrhile  I  try  to  think 
How  would  it  be  if  she  came  back  again, 
And  crept  once  more  into  this  empty  shell 
Of  life  that  has  been  lived!    What  is  there  here 
But  two  old  hearts  that  hardly  have  enough 

32 


SHE     MUST     TAKE     HER     CHANCE,    AS     [     TOOK     MINE 


THE  FATHEK  AND  THE  MOTHEK 

Of  love  left  for  each  other?    And  she  needs 
The  whole  of  such  love  as  I  found  in  you 
When  I  had  given  you  all  the  love  I  had. 
No,  she  must  go  with  him  as  I  with  you. 
Because  she  has  been  all  in  all  to  us 
So  long,  and  yet  for  such  a  little  time, 
We  have  come  to  think  that  she  must  be  unlike 
Others,  and  she  must  be  above  their  fate. 
But  that  is  foolish.     She  must  take  her  chance, 
As  I  took  mine,  and  as  we  women  have 
Taken  our  chance  from  the  beginning.    There! 
I  give  her  up  for  the  first  time  and  last! 
Tell  her —    I  talk  as  if  you  were  with  her 
There,  and  not  here  with  me!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"And  I— I  feel 

As  if  we  both  were  there  with  her  and  with 
Each  other  here." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"And  so  we  shall  be  always; 
And  most  with  her  when  most  we  are  alone. 
See,  they  have  mounted  to  their  train  together! 
She  stands  a  moment  at  the  door  and  waves 
The  hand  that  is  not  held  in  his  toward  us — 
And  they  are  gone  into  their  unknown  world 
To  find  our  own  past  in  their  future  there! 

33 


Ill 

THE    FATHER 


Ill 

THE   FATHER 

In  the  parlor  of  a  village  house,  with  open  doors  and  win 
dows.  THE  FATHER  and  THE  MOTHER,  an  elderly 
man  and  woman,  sitting  alone  among  chmrs  in 
broken  rows.  There  is  a  piano  with  lifted  lid;  dust 
is  tracked  about  the  floor. 

THE  FATHER: 
"Now  it  is  over." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"It  is  over,  now, 
And  we  shall  never  see  her  any  more." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Have  you  put  everything  of  hers  away? 
If  I  found  anything  that  she  had  worn, 
Or  that  belonged  to  her,  I  think  the  sight 
Would  kill  me." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  you  need  not  be  afraid; 
I  have  put  everything  away." 

37 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER' 

THE  FATHER: 

"Oh,  me! 

How  shall  we  do  without  her!    It  is  as  if 
One  of  my  arms  had  been  lopt  off,  and  I 
Must  go  through  life  a  mutilated  man. 
This  morning  when  I  woke  there  was  an  instant, 
A  little  instant,  when  she  seemed  alive, 
Before  the  clouds  closed  over  me  again, 
And  death  filled  all  the  world.     Then  came  that  stress, 
That  horrible  impatience  to  be  done 
With  what  had  been  our  child.    As  if  to  hide 
The  cold  white  witness  of  her  absence  were 
To  have  her  back  once  more!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  felt  that,  too. 

I  thought  I  could  not  rest  till  it  was  done; 
And  now  I  cannot  rest,  and  we  shall  rest 
Never  again  as  long  as  we  shall  live. 
Our  grief  will  drug  us,  yes,  and  we  shall  sleep, 
As  we  have  slept  already;    but  not  rest." 

THE  FATHER: 

"We  must,  I  cannot  help  believing  it, 

See  her  again  some  time  and  somewhere  else." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  never  any  time  or  anywhere!" 

38 


THE    FA THEE 

THE  FATHER: 
"You  used  to  think  we  should." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  know  I  did. 

But  that  is  gone  forever,  that  fond  lie 
With  which  we  used  to  fool  our  happiness, 
When  we  had  no  need  of  it.     When  we  had 
Each  other  safe  we  could  not  even  imagine 
Not  having  one  another  always." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes, 
It  was  a  lie,  a  cruel,  mocking  lie!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Why  did  you  ask  me,  then?    Do  you  suppose 
That  if  the  love  we  used  to  make  believe 
Would  reunite  us,  really  had  the  power, 
It  would  not,  here  and  now,  be  doing  it, 
Now,  when  we  need  her  more  than  we  shall  need  her 
Ever  in  all  eternity,  and  she — 
If  she  is  still  alive,  which  I  deny — 
Is  aching  for  us  both  as  we  for  her? 
You  know  how  lost  and  heartsick  she  must  be, 
Wherever  she  is,  if  she  is  anywhere; 
And  if  her  longing,  and  if  ours  could  bring  us 
Together,  as  we  used  to  dream  it  could, 
How  soon  she  would  be  here!" 

39 


THE  MOTHEK  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  cannot  bear  it!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  shall  not  care,  when  we  are  very  old, 
Years  hence,  and  we  shall  have  begun  to  be 
Forgetful,  as  old  people  are,  about  her, 
And  all  her  looks  and  ways — I  shall  not  care 
To  see  her  then:    I  want  to  see  her  now, 
Now  while  I  still  remember  everything, 
And  she  remembers,  and  has  all  her  faults 
Just  as  we  have  our  own,  to  be  forgiven. 
But  if  we  have  to  wait  till  she  is  grown 
Some  frigid,  faultless  angel,  in  some  world 
Where  she  has  other  ties,  I  shall  not  care 

To  see  her;    I  should  be  afraid  of  her." 

•• . 

THE  FATHER: 
"She  would  not  then  be  she,  nor  we  be  we." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  want  to  tell  her  how  I  grieve  for  all 

I  ever  did  or  said  that  was  unkind 

Since  she  was  born.    But  if  we  met  above, 

In  that  impossible  heaven,  she  would  not  care." 

THE  FATHER: 

"If  she  knows  anything  she  knows  that  now 
Without  your  telling." 

40 


THE    FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  want  her  to  say 
She  knows  it." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yet,  somehow  she  seems  alive! 
The  whole  way  home  she  seemed  to  be  returning 
Between  us  as  she  used,  when  we  came  home 
From  walking,  and  she  was  a  child." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh  that 

Was  nothing  but  the  habit  of  her;   just 
As  if  you  really  had  lost  an  arm 
You  would  have  felt  it  there." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Oh  yes,  I  know." 
He  lets  his  head  hang  in  silence;  then  he  looks  up 

at  the  window  opening  on  the  porch. 
"This  honeysuckle's  sweetness  sickens  me." 

He  rises  and  shuts  the  window. 
"I  never  shall  smell  that  sweetness  while  I  live 
And  not  die  back  into  this  day  of  death." 

He  remains  at  the  window  staring  out. 
"How  still  it  is  outside!    The  timothy 
Stands  like  a  solid  wall  beside  the  swath 
The  men  have  cut.    The  clover  heads  hang  heavy 
And  motionless." 

41 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 
"I  wish  that  it  would  rain, 
And  lay  the  dust.    The  house  is  full  of  dust 
From  the  road  yonder.     They  have  tracked  it  in 
Through  all  the  rooms,  and  I  shall  have  enough 
To  do,  getting  it  out  again." 

THE  FATHER: 

"The  sun 

Pours  down  its  heat  as  if  it  were  raining  fire. 
But  she  that  used  to  suffer  so  with  cold, 
She  cannot  feel  it.     Did  you  see  that  woman, 
That  horrible  old  woman,  chewing  dill 
All  through  the  services?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  yes,  I  saw  her. 

You  know  her:    Mrs.  Joyce,  that  always  comes 
To  funerals." 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  remember.     She  should  be 
Prevented,  somehow." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Why,  she  did  no  harm." 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  could  not  bear  to  have  them  stand  and  stare 
So  long  at  the  dead  face.     I  hate  that  custom." 

42 


THE    FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  wonder  that  you  cared.    It  was  not  her  face, 

Nor  the  form  hers;    only  a  waxen  image 

Of  what  she  had  been.    Nothing  now  is  she! 

There  is  no  place  in  the  whole  universe 

For  her  whose  going  takes  all  from  the  earth 

That  ever  made  it  home." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes,  she  is  gone, 

And  it  is  worse  than  if  she  had  never  been — 
Hark!" 

THE  MOTPIER: 
"How  you  startle  me!    You  are  so  nervous!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"I  thought  I  heard  a  kind  of  shuddering  noise!" 

THE  MOTHER: 
"It  was  a  shutter  shaking  in  the  wind." 

THE  FATHER: 
"There  is  no  wind." 

•  THE  MOTHER,  after  a  moment: 

"Go  and  see  what  it  was. 
It  seemed  like  something  in  the  room  where  she — " 

43 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 

"It  sounded  like,  the  beating  of  birds'  wings. 
There!    It  has  stopped." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  must  know  what  it  was. 
If  you  will  not  go,  I  will.    I  shall  die 
Unless  you  go  at  once." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Oh,  I  will  go." 

He  goes  out  and  mounts  the  stairs,  ivhich  creak 
under  his  tread.  His  feet  are  heard  on  the  floor 
above.  After  a  moment  comes  the  sound  of 
opening  and  closing  shutters. 

THE  MOTHER,  calling  up: 
"What  is  it?    Quick!" 

THE  FATHER,  calling  down: 

"It  was  some  kind  of  bird 
Between  the  shutters  and  the  sash." 

He  descends  the  stairs  slowly,  and  comes  into  the 
room  where  THE  MOTHER  sits  waiting. 

"I  cannot 
Imagine  how  it  got  there." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"What  bird  was  it?" 
44 


THE    FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 

"Some  kind  I  did  not  know.    I  wish  that  I 
Had  let  it  in." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that? 
Everything  living  tries  to  leave  the  house; 
We  stay  because  we  are  part  of  death, 
And  cannot  go." 

THE  FATHER: 

"It  did  not  wish  to  go; 
It  was  not  trying  to  get  out,  but  in. 
I  put  it  out  once  and  it  came  again; 
And  now  I  wish  that  I  had  let  it  stay." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"You  are  so  superstitious;   and  you  think"  .... 

She  stops,  and  they  both  sit  silent  for  a  time. 

THE  FATHER: 
"It  may  be  our  despair  that  keeps  her  from  us." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"You  think,  then,  that  our  hope  could  bring  her  to  us?" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Not  that,  no." 

45 


THE    MOTHER    AND    THE    JfATllEK 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Or,  that  we  could  make  her  live 
Again  by  willing  it  sufficiently?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Oh  no, 

Not  by  our  willing;    by  our  loving,  yes! 
Not  through  our  will,  which  is  a  part  of  us 
And  filled  full  of  ourselves,  but  through  our  love, 
Which  is  a  part  of  some  life  else,  and  filled 
With  something  not  ourselves,  but  better,  purer." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"Well,  try." 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  cannot.    Your  doubt  palsies  me." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  cannot  help  it.     If  she  cannot  come 

Back  to  my  doubt  she  cannot  to  my  faith.  .  .  . 

Oh!    What  was  that?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"The  wind  among  the  chords 
Of  the  piano.    They  have  left  it  open 
After  the  singing." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"But  there  is  no  wind! 
You  said  yourself,  just  now,  there  was  no  wind!" 

46 


"IT     WAS      LIKE     SOMETHING      HEARD     WITHIN      MY      BRAIN 


THE    FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 
" Perhaps  it  was  our  voices  jarred  the  strings." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"They  could  not  do  it;    and  it  was  not  like 

Anything  that  I  ever  heard  before. 

It  was  like  something  heard  within  my  brain. 

And  there  is  something  that  I  see  within! 

Hark!    Look!    Do  you  hear  nothing?    Do  you  see 

Nothing?    Or  am  I  going  wild?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"No,  no! 
I  hear  and  see  it  too.    Are  you  afraid?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"No,  not  the  least.    But,  oh,  how  strange  it  is! 
What  is  it  like — to  you?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  dare  not  say 
For  fear  that  it  should  not  be  anything." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Do  you  believe  that  we  are  dreaming  it? 
That  we  are  sleeping  and  are  dreaming  it?" 

THE  FATHER: 
" He  could  not  be  so  cruel!" 

47 


THE  MOTHEK  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  MOTHER: 

"He  made  death." 

THE  FATHER: 

"There!    You  have  hurt  it,  and  it  will  not  speak; 
You  have  offended  it.    Speak  to  it!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Child, 

I  did  not  mean  to  grieve  you.     Oh,  forgive 
Your  poor  wild  mother!    Is  she  here  yet,  dearest?" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Yes,  she  is  here!    Yes,  I  am  sure  of  it — " 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  seemed  to  have  lost  her —    No,  she  is  here  again! 
How  natural  she  is!    How  strong  and  bright, 
And  all  that  sick  look  gone!    It  must  be  true 
That  it  is  she,  but  how  shall  we  be  sure 
After  it  passes?    Where  is  it  you  see  her? 
Where  is  it  that  you  hear  her  speak?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Within! 
Within  my  brain,  my  heart,  my  life,  my  love!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Yes,  that  is  where  I  see  and  hear  her  too. 
And  oh,  I  feel  her!    This  is  her  dear  hand 

48 


THE    FATHER 

In  mine!    How  warm  and  soft  it  is  once  more, 
After  that  sickness!    Yes,  we  have  her  back, 
Dearest,  we  have  our  child  again!    But  still 
How  strange  it  is  that  she  is  all  within, 
And  nowhere  outside  of  our  minds.    Can  you 
Make  her  nowhere  but  in  yourself?" 

THE  FATHER 

"In  you—' 
THE  MOTHER: 

"And  I  in  you!    I  see  her  in  your  mind; 

I  hear  her  speaking  in  your  mind!    That  shows 

How  wholly  we  are  one.     Our  love  has  done  it, 

And  we  must  never  quarrel  any  more. 

It  was  your  faith;    I  will  say  that  for  you! 

But  are  you  sure  we  are  not  dreaming  it?" 

THE  FATHER: 
"How  could  we  both  be  dreaming  the  same  thing?" 

THE  MOTHER: 
"We  could  if  we  are  both  so  wholly  one." 

THE  FATHER: 

"We  must  not  doubt,  or  it  will  cease  to  be. 
See!    It  is  growing  faint!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh  no,  my  child! 
I  Ho  believe  that  it  is  really  you. 

49 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

And,  father,  you  must  not  keep  saying  It, 
As  if  she  were  not  living.    Now  she  smiles, 
And  now  she  is  speaking!    Can  you  understand 
What  she  is  saying?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"It  is  not  in  words, 
And  yet  I  understand." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"And  so  do  I. 

I  wish  that  you  could  put  it  into  words 
So  that  we  might  remember  it  hereafter." 

THE  FATHER: 

"But  what  she  says  cannot  be  put  in  words. 
It  is  enough  that  we  can  understand 
Better  than  if  it  were  in  words." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"No,  no! 

Unless  it  is  in  words,  I  am  not  sure. 
Unless  she  calls  you  Father  and  me  Mother — 
Hush!    Did  you  hear  her  speak?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  thought  I  heard  her." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  am  sure  I  heard  her  call  us  both,  and  now 
I  know  it  is  not  an  hallucination. 

50 


THE    FATHER 

Oh,  I  believe,  and  I  am  satisfied! 

But,  child,  I  wish  that  you  could  tell  me  something 

About  it — where  you  are!    Is  it  like  this? 

In  everything  that  I  have  read  about  it, 

It  seemed  so  vague — 

THE  FATHER: 

"She  answers  hesitating, 
As  we  used,  when  she  was  a  little  thing, 
To  answer  her  in  something  that  we  thought 
She  would  be  none  the  happier  for  knowing. 
We  are  as  children  with  her  now,  and  she 
As  father  and  mother  to  us,  and  we  must  not 
Question  her." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"Yes,  I  must;   I  will,  I  will!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"There,  she  is  gone!    No,  she  is  here  again!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"No,  we  are  somewhere  else.    What  place  is  this? 
Is  this  where  she  was?    Did  she  bring  us  here? 
It  seems  as  if  we  now  were  merged  in  her 
As  she  was  merged  in  us  before  we  came, 
But  all  our  wills  are  one.     Oh,  mystery! 
I  am  so  lost  in  this  strange  unity; 
Help  me  to  find  myself,  if  you  are  here! 
You  are  here,  are  not  you?" 

51 


THE  MOTHER  AND  THE  FATHER 

THE  FATHER: 

"Yes,  I  am  here, 

But  not  as  I  was  there.     I  seem  a  part 
Of  all  that  was  and  is  and  shall  be.     This  is  life 
And  that  was  only  living  yonder!    I  can  find  you, 
I  can  find  her,  but  not  myself  in  it, 
Or  only  as  a  drop  of  water  may 
Find  itself  in  the  indiscriminate  sea." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  cannot  bear  it!    I  was  not  prepared! 
Oh,  save  me,  dearest!    Save  me,  oh,  my  child! 
Speak  to  me,  father,  in  the  words  we  knew, 
And  not  in  these  intolerable  rays 
That  leave  the  thought  no  refuge  from  itself. 
I  have  not  yet  the  strength  to  yield  my  own 
Up  to  this  universal  happiness. 
I  still  must  dwell  apart  in  my  own  life, 
A  prison  if  it  need  be,  or  a  pang. 
Come  back  with  rne,  both  of  you,  for  a  while.  .  .  . 

She  starts,  and  stares  about  her. 
Why,  I  am  here  again,  and  you  are  here! 
This  is  our  house,  with  dust  in  it,  and  death! 
This  is  our  dear,  dear  earthly  home!    But  where 
Is  she?    Call!    Tell  her  we  are  here  again!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"We  could  not  make  her  corne.     I  am  bewildered; 
I  scarcely  know  if  I  am  here  myself." 

A  moment  passes  in  silence. 

52 


THE    FATHEK 

THE  MOTHER: 

"  Perhaps  she  never  came  at  all,  and  we 
Have  only  dreamed  that  we  were  somewhere  else. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  awaked  from  sleep. 
How  long  were  we  away?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"I  cannot  tell: 
As  long  as  life,  or  only  for  an  instant." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"It  could  not  have  been  long,  for  there  I  see 
The  hurnming-bird  poised  at  the  honeysuckle 
Still,  that  I  noticed  when  we  seemed  to  go. 
Nothing  has  really  happened;    yet,  somehow.  .  .  . 
I  wonder  what  it  was  she  said  to  us 
That  satisfied  us  so!    Can  you  remember?" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Not  in  words,  no.     It  did  not  seem  in  words, 
And  if  we  tried  to  put  it  into  words — " 

THE  MOTHER: 

"They  would  be  such  as  mediums  use  to  cheat 
Their  dupes  with,  or  to  make  them  cheat  themselves. 
No,  no!    We  ought  not  to  be  satisfied. 
It  is  a  trick  our  crazy  nerves  have  played  us. 
The  self-same  trick  has  cheated  both,  or  we 

53 


THE  MOTHEK  AND  THE  FATHEK 

Have  hypnotized  each  other.     It  is  the  same 

As  such  things  always  have  been  from  the  first: 

Our  sorrow  has  made  fools  of  us;    we  have  seen 

A  phantom  that  our  longing  conjured  up; 

And  heard  a  voice  that  had  no  sound;    and  thought 

A  meaning  into  mocking  emptiness!" 

THE  FATHER: 
"Then,  how  could  it  have  satisfied  us  so?" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"That  was  a  part  of  the  hallucination. 

Nothing  has  happened,  nothing  has  been  proved!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Not  to  our  reason,  no,  but  to  our  love 
Everything." 

THE  MOTHER: 
"Then,  let  her  come  back  again!" 

THE  FATHER: 

"Twice   would   prove   nothing   more   if   once   proved 

nothing. 

We  have  had  our  glimpse  of  something  beyond  earth: 
As  every  one  who  sorrows  somehow  has. 
The  world  is  not  so  hollow  as  it  was. 
There  still  is  meaning  in  the  universe; 
But  if  it  ever  is  as  waste  and  senseless 

54 


THE    FATHER 

As  only  now  it  seemed,  and  the  time  comes 
When  we  shall  need  her  as  we  needed  her, 
Then  we  shall  be  with  her,  or  she  with  us, 
Whether  the  time  is  somewhere  else  or  here. 
Come,  mother — mother  for  eternity!— 
Come,  let  us  go,  each  of  us,  to  our  work. 
I  have  been  to  blame  for  breaking  you  with  grief 
Which  I  should  have  supported  you  against. 
Forgive  me  for  it!" 

THE  MOTHER: 

"Oh,  what  are  you  saying? 
There  is  no  blame  and  no  forgiveness  for  it 
Between  us  two,  nothing  but  only  love." 

THE  FATHER: 
"The  love  in  which  she  lives." 

THE  MOTHER: 

"I  will  believe  it 
If  you  believe  it." 

THE  FATHER: 

"Help  me  to  believe!" 


THE    END 


I'M  \  KliSITY    Ul'    CAIJKOIiMA    I.IUKAKY 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUB  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


law 


Oft 


SEP  2  8  1994 

;;-ATiONDEPT. 


AU6  9  19'9 
OCT  18  """ 
W.  6  1920 


WAR 


*923 


30m-6,'14 


305 


